I have been married to my soul mate for 36 years. We dated for 6 years before that. We have been through Vietnam, 2 kids, cancer – both her and me, the trials of owning your own business for 25 years, grand kids – and the millions of challenges life tosses your way just for fun.
We are, what I would call, gender-liberated. I mean that I do not see her of being incapable of any task just because she is a woman. She tells me she believes the same of me – even though a shudder visibly runs through her body when I pick up any kind of tool within the confines of our home. “Should I call Jeremy???” is uttered in a rather hopeful manner – “or how about Edwards Plumbing??” – at the site of a wrench, hammer, or God forbid, a battery powered tool. (Just for the record, I KNOW I could fix anything if only I had one of those really cool compressed air nail guns!!! It’s on my Christmas list!!!!!!!) She clearly has doubts as to my actual God-given talents!!
Through 36 years of marriage, I have discovered however that there are in deed Men’s jobs and Women’s Jobs. One such experience happened this very morning.
One of Susie’s sacred morning tasks is the feeding, watering and litter box cleaning of/for our owner, Miss Daisy the cat. Daisy carefully watches each task, squeaking appropriately if some task is not completed to her specifications. Today there was another tasked needing handling concerning Miss Daisy.
“Willie – Daisy has a chunk of poop on her butt!” I am deep in my daily read, seeing if Obama has taken us entirely to hell or if we are simply at a rest area in between. I am not really paying attention (although that’s not too uncommon for me). “Willie!!!” “Yes sweetie???” “Daisy has a chunk of poop on her butt!” I look at her, seeing she as a piece of paper towel in her hand, and foolishly ask “well, aren’t you going to pull it off?!?!?!?” “Heck no! That’s YOUR job!!” And so I ponder this point. At some time during our marriage, our love and support of each other, our challenges, our joys – it has become MY JOB to remove a chunk of poop from our kitty’s rear end.
I do, of course. I’m not stupid! I have survived, and even thrived, in our 36 years of marriage. Because I know that there are:
Men’s jobs – and Women’s jobs!!